


A Dance With Dragons

by jeondoe, styzaintine (jeondoe)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Bottom Harry Styles, Dornish Zayn Malik, Dragons, Fantasy, House Martell, House Targaryen, M/M, Martell Prince Zayn, Minor Lilo, No Angst, Royal Harry Styles, Royal Zayn Malik, Royalty, Smut, Targaryen Prince Harry, Top Zayn Malik, but fuck it there u go, me trying to be poetic (and failing), the LiLo is literally just one (1) line, there’s the tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26175625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeondoe/pseuds/jeondoe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeondoe/pseuds/styzaintine
Summary: does anyone even read Zarry anymore?features: blond Harry Styles, unpronounceable names, Harry drooling over Zayn’s pretty eyes way too many times, LiLo if you use a microscope, bad puns on house sigils, dRaGoNsalso I last watched GOT roughly 2945947 billion years ago so excuse any discrepancies regarding the canon
Relationships: Liam Payne/Louis Tomlinson, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Comments: 5
Kudos: 255





	A Dance With Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> does anyone even read Zarry anymore?
> 
> features: blond Harry Styles, unpronounceable names, Harry drooling over Zayn’s pretty eyes way too many times, LiLo if you use a microscope, bad puns on house sigils, dRaGoNs
> 
> also I last watched GOT roughly 2945947 billion years ago so excuse any discrepancies regarding the canon

Aerys Targaryen was born in the fiercest storm Westeros had seen in four centuries. The sea thrashed and raged against the shores, the winds tore apart anything that dared stand in its path, and a squalling baby boy came out from between Queen Rhaella’s legs, proving to everybody assembled that the Targaryens were indeed descended from dragons with his roaring screams and cries.

Twenty odd years had passed since the day that the Young Dragon had arrived pink-faced and screaming to this world, and he already had most of Westeros under his spell. To the maesters that would no doubt write his name in the history books, he would be Aerys Targaryen, the third of his name; the boy who, at the green age of six-and-ten, had held off the ironborn single-handedly during Balon Greyjoy’s first rebellion and had sliced his head clean off in the next; the young man who’d tamed not one but three dragons and rode all of them; the brave, the gallant, the valiant heir to the Iron Throne

But to the smallfolk, he was known and loved as Harry Stormborn- the handsome young man who provided them with everything they owned; who stole not their daughter’s maidenhoods but their hearts; who never let them go hungry and was not hesitant to part with his gold.

The Prince was rumored to be the most handsome man Westeros had ever seen. Indeed, attired in the red-and-black of his house, fair hair tumbling over his broad shoulders in curls so delicate a maiden would be jealous, the Dragon Prince was regal as could be.

He was also exhausted.

The Targaryen Prince let his eyes flutter shut as he soared above the clouds, Westeros below him having disappeared long ago. Rhaegal’s wings beat the sky and the dragon let out a roar of delight.

Harry opened his eyes and placed a palm on the beast’s warm head. His dragons had been growing restless, cooped up in their cage- the charred remains of the last man who’d tried to silence them was proof enough. Then and only then had Harry had been allowed to go to his children. They only ever listened to him.

He had three of them, ones he’d had since they were eggs- beautiful Gaeya, whose scales glistened silver in moonlight and gold in sunlight, and whose fire was fabled to be of such ferocity it could burn the sea and the lands beyond; Thaenos, or the Red Fury as he was better known, whose body was almost as scarlet as his fire; and the youngest but easily the largest- dark, brooding Rhaegal. 

He loved all of his children, but Rhaegal was undeniably his favorite, which was why he’d chosen to let him out first. Normally, his dragons would be free to roam wherever they pleased, but more and more esteemed guests had been arriving in King’s Landing for the royal wedding, and King Aegon and Queen Rhaella had both decided that roasting one of their esteemed guests would not be hospitable.

It had been with a heavy heart that Harry had barred the entrance to the Dragonpit, locking his blood inside. His brother Daegon had tamed only one dragon, and Viserion was not unlike his owner in the sense that he was pliant- at least, more so than the three Harry owned. His ones were accustomed to roaming free and having enough space to spread their wings.

The Prince felt his exhaustion returning tenfold at the thought of Daegon. It was because of him that he’d been so swamped with work as of late- his brother was getting married to Princess Doniya Martell of Sunspear, and all of Westeros seemed to be in attendance. 

The Princess had arrived with her procession a week ago. She was a comely young woman, with the caramel skin of her Summer Islander mother and the thick, dark hair of her Dornish father. She was a match fit for a king, as Daegon would be soon.

The rest of her family would be arriving today- her father, Prince Doran Martell; her two younger sisters; and the brother, who was of an age with Harry. Harry had met the Martells when he was a child, too young to remember what they were like. He had been told that he and Prince Zayn had been inseparable on that first meeting, but time and tide had made them drift apart and Harry only had the vaguest recollection of amber eyes and a wide smile. The only thing that stood out in his memory was the fact that Zayn was the only person besides himself who had not been terrified of his dragons, and neither had they panicked at the sight of him. Of course, they’d only been hatchlings then, but a young dragon was still not a puppy.

He took one last look at the clouds before digging his heels into Rhaegal’s sides. “We should be going back.” Rhaegal roared once more before beginning his descent.

Harry had barely managed to get the dragon back in his cage when Niall Baratheon rushed up to him. “Your Grace.” The Kingsguard bowed. “The Martells have arrived. Her Majesty has been looking all over for you.”

“I was with Rhaegal.”

“I figured as much.” Niall grinned at him. Perhaps Harry had been inseparable from Zayn as a child, but Niall Baratheon had been the brother he could remember. It was his sworn duty as a White Cloak to protect the King, but Aegon had always been arrogant and hadn’t expected a boy not much older than his youngest son to prove as much of a use as he would be a hindrance, so the Baratheon boy had befallen on Harry. It was something that the King no doubt regretted; Harry was the only man who matched Niall’s prowess in combat.

King Aegon was sitting on the throne, the Queen to his side. The smile he gave his younger son seemed tight-lipped and strained.

“May I present to you Prince Aerys Targaryen, the third of his name,” Niall declared to the group assembled on the King’s left.

Harry looked up, and for a moment, he felt like he was astride Rhaegal again, soaring in the heavens, hardly able to breathe- because he surely couldn’t have forgotten how handsome Prince Zayn was. The boy, like his sister, had dark skin and darker hair, but unlike the slanting inky eyes of Princess Doniya Martell, his eyes were the same color as the famed golden sands of Sunspear. His red and gold doublet brought out his eyes and made his skin seem aglow.

“Aerys,” a feeble voice called out, and Harry managed to tear his eyes away to look at Prince Doran, Doniya’s sire. The man had been crippled from the waist down a few years ago, and it was no secret that he was not going to live for much long. “Or Harry, as I’ve heard you called.”

“Only the smallfolk call him that,” Queen Rhaella cut in disdainfully. “His name is _Aerys_ ; not many have the tongues to pronounce that.” 

Prince Doran smiled slowly. “I suppose they don’t,” he said softly. “But I’d much rather call you Harry, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Harry reciprocated the smile. He liked this man already. “Forgive my tardiness.” The two younger Dornish princesses were staring at him with barely concealed interest. Their brother’s expression was unreadable. Harry’s skin felt hot all over when his amber eyes met his own. “I was outside.”

His mother cleared her throat. “That much is obvious, I think.”

“It is no matter.” Prince Doran’s wrinkled mouth broke into a warm smile. “But perhaps you could show my son around? It has been too long since he last came here.”

Perhaps his parents were annoyed at having their younger son ordered around by the old man, but Harry was elated. “It would be my pleasure.”

When he looked at Zayn, he saw the ghost of a smile on the elder’s lips, and his heart thumped in his chest.

Once they were both outside, however, the silence was almost palpable.

“So...” Harry had never felt this awkward before, not in years. “What do you want to do?”

Zayn was quiet for another moment before those striking golden eyes turned to Harry. “I hear you have dragons.” 

. . .

For the second time that day, Harry found himself sitting astride a dragon- this time Gaeya. She was slightly smaller than her brother Rhaegal, and not as gentle, but Rhaegal had already had his taste of freedom for today. And no man besides Harry would ever be foolish enough even try to mount Thaenos, unless they wanted to be cooked alive.

Harry felt Zayn’s hands tightening the hold on his hips when they took off. Gaeya roared, setting out a blast of fire; Harry could feel the heat on his fingers. Zayn’s grip loosened when they reached the highest they could go.

Harry turned his head slightly, smiling when he saw the Dornish Prince’s look of wonder at the sight of the gleaming clouds and the scenery below them. “It’s a remarkable feeling, isn’t it?”

Zayn turned to him. “I have never felt more alive.” His eyes were alight. “I remember her.” Zayn pat Gaeya’s side. “We named them together. Clouds, Fire and Soot- do you remember?”

Harry let out a short bark of laughter. “My mother wasn’t all that impressed. She didn’t think it’d be, ah, _befitting_ a prince of Targaryen blood should he own three majestic beasts and name them after everyday things.”

“Targaryen names are such a mouthful, though,” Zayn complained. “Aerys. Daenerys. Rhaegal, Thaenos, Gaeya. Do any of your relatives have names a normal person can pronounce?”

Harry mused. “Well, I did have a great-grandfather Jahaerys,” he replied seriously, laughing when Zayn groaned.

“Aerys,” Zayn repeated, and Harry felt like he could get more accustomed to his real name if everybody said it like Zayn did. “I suppose it’s a regal name, though. Royal. A name fit for a Targaryen.”

“Say that within earshot of my mother and she’ll wed you to me,” Harry joked.

Zayn gave him a strange smile. “I suppose I should, then.” 

It was past twilight when they went back to the castle. By then, the entirety of King’s Landing was in a flurry for the royal wedding tonight. 

Niall rushed out to meet Harry as soon as they touched down. “Your Grace!” he exclaimed breathlessly. “Lord Liam Stark has arrived- and so has Lord Louis Greyjoy- they’re glaring daggers at each other and their men are challenging each other to duels by the dozen- as if nobody knew or even suspected what their lords got up to behind closed doors- and you’re wanted to make peace between them-”

He stopped mid-sentence when he saw Zayn slide off of Gaeya’s back after Harry. The Kingsguard’s eyes widened and he looked from the Prince he served to the foreigner.

“M’lord.” He bowed so low his helm nearly touched the ground. “I-”

“It’s alright. I need to check on my sister, anyway. Go.” Zayn smiled at the Kingsguard.

Harry turned back to Niall. “Thank you, Ser Baratheon. I will be there shortly.” Niall bowed once more before he left, his white cloak billowing behind him. Harry turned to Zayn. “I shall see you at the feast, I hope?” 

He placed a hand on Zayn’s arm. Too late, he realized that it seemed more like the act of a lover than of an old friend, but he did not feel like letting go. Moreover, Zayn made no indication that he was the slightest bit uncomfortable with it. If anything, he seemed to have moved closer.

Harry’s heart stuttered when the Dornish Prince placed his hand on top of Harry’s and held tightly. “I would not miss it for all the gold of Casterly Rock.”

. . . 

Daegon Targaryen, the first of his name, wed Doniya Martell under a canopy of stars with all of Westeros there to bear witness. Harry Stormborn was much loved by the populace, and the people loved Daegon because he was the Dragon Prince’s brother.

Doniya Martell looked nothing like the fair-faced and rose-cheeked ladies the Westerosi were accustomed to, but she had already won their hearts over with her kindness and beauty. Harry sat at a place of honor while he watched his brother and the Dornish Princess being united in the eyes of gods and men. Both Daegon and his bride were nervous, but all of that seemed to disappear when it was time for them to kiss.

The wedding feast was the grandest one Westeros had seen in years. There were seventy-seven courses in honor of the Seven, and Harry nibbled his food to save room for everything to come. Even so, he was feeling a little too full by the time the dove pie was brought in.

Zayn was seated directly across him- as the brothers of the newlyweds, they both had equal seats on the dais. The Dornish Prince smiled at him when he saw Harry staring, but that was the extent of their interactions during the banquet.

When they were to dance, Harry felt like he could barely get to his feet. At least he had fared better than Niall, who’d challenged Lord Manderly to an eating contest and was now groaning to himself.

Seeing Niall’s sick face had given him a little heart, and he got up from the table. He patted Niall’s back as he walked by. “Tough luck, Ser Baratheon.”

“Fuck off, Your Grace,” Niall grunted. 

Harry was not oblivious to the highborn ladies who were watching him, waiting for him to ask them to dance. Lord Arryn’s daughters gave him coy smiles as he walked past, and Lady Tully and her sister thrust their bosoms forward at his sight. He smiled politely and hastened to get away from them as soon as possible- it was his duty as his brother’s heir to wed a respectable woman of a great house, but he didn’t want to give his father any ideas just yet.

“Your Grace?” Harry turned around at the sound of a familiar Dornish-accented voice speaking behind him. Zayn Martell was standing behind him, a smile on his face.

“Zayn.”

“Aerys.” Zayn’s smile widened. “You know, it’s actually starting to grow on me.”

Harry mirrored smile. “Only my name?”

“That is for me to know, and for you to find out.” Zayn bowed before him almost comically low. “May I have this dance?” 

Harry stared. “We are both men. People will see. They will talk.” 

“Let them talk,” Zayn said recklessly. “In Dorne, we dance as we want to.”

“This is King’s Landing,” Harry reminded him.

“Aye, but I’m a Dornishman.” Zayn’s eyes burned like bright embers. “So... May I have this dance?” 

. . .

“I’m still trying to understand how we went from dancing in the ballroom to dancing on my bed.” Harry gasped as Zayn pinned him to his bed, his hot mouth leaving a trail of kisses from his neck to his exposed chest.

The Dornish Prince raised his head. “Dragons come from the sun,” he said, grinning. “And Targaryens will come from Martells.”

Harry blushed, but his embarrassment turned to ecstasy as Zayn took him in his mouth. Zayn held his hips down as he lapped at Harry’s aching cock, swallowing him to the hilt. He bit down on his fist to stifle the embarrassing sounds that were threatening to escape. The sight of Zayn’s dark head between his legs, pretty lips stretched around his cock was too much for him to take.

Zayn’s own cock was thick and long and as gorgeous as the rest of him, golden up to the blushing red of the tip. It stood stiff as a mast, curved up towards his flat abdomen, and Harry _wanted_. 

He spread his legs wide and Zayn kneeled between them, strong hands pulling his legs up so they were placed on Zayn’s shoulders. 

“Look at you,” Zayn whispered. “So beautiful.”

“Yours.” The word hadn’t meant to leave his lips, but Harry knew it to be true the moment it did. “All yours.” 

“As am I,” Zayn replied, and pushed in to the hilt.

Harry’s breath faltered and he let out a rasping cry. Zayn had stretched him before, those long fingers scissoring inside of him and making him see stars, but nothing could have prepared him for Zayn’s girth. It was pain and pleasure at once, and Harry could only lie gasping for breath as Zayn took complete control over him, the force of his thrusts pushing him into the bed.

The sheets crumpled beneath their movements, the sweat dripping along their heated bodies soaking them through. He came all too quickly.

Zayn muffled his moans with his lips, increasing the pace of his hips. It was not long after that Harry felt him release inside of him.

“I have ridden a dragon, and a dragon has ridden me,” Zayn quipped, earning a half-hearted slap from Harry. 

. . .

“Aerys.” Fear consumed Harry’s senses. A million thoughts rushed to his mind, all of them ending with Zayn. _Did he find out about us? He couldn’t have, we were so careful- but what if he did?_

King Aegon gave his younger son a long, searching look before taking a deep breath. “The heir to Dorne seems to have become close to you. Prince Doran tells me you two are joined at the hip.”

All the color disappeared from Harry’s face, and he braced himself for whatever punishment might be readied for him.

The King took another deep breath. “Your brother will ascend the Iron Throne once I am gone. And Princess Doniya will be his queen. Dorne will be going to Prince Zayn.” The King shifted in his seat, wincing when one of the blades that made up the throne grazed him. A droplet of red blood bubbled from his father’s pale skin, and Harry followed its path to avoid looking the King in the eyes. “Count yourself lucky that you will not inherit this seat, if the gods are good and your brother does not come to any harm.” Aegon Targaryen looked at his son once again, amethyst eyes meeting amethyst. “It is the wish of both Prince Zayn and his father that you would return to Dorne with them.” 

Harry forgot how to breath for a second. “To Dorne?” He hardly dared to believe his ears. Dorne- he would be going to Dorne, to Sunspear, to Zayn... “But what about my dragons?”

His heart fell at the thought of having to leave his children behind. As much as he wanted to go with Zayn, Targaryens were never separated from their dragons.

“Rhaegal, Gaeya and Thaenos will be going with you. Targaryens have oft been wed to Dornishmen, and their dragons have found home in Sunspear’s own Dragonpit. True, it is not as large as ours, but Prince Doran has arranged for a newer, vaster one to be constructed. And the dragons shall be set free at your pleasure.” 

It was all settled, then. He would be leaving King’s Landing, leaving his parents, leaving everything he’d ever known behind... He could hardly say that he was sorry. 

The King was still talking. “Ser Baratheon will be accompanying you, of course; along with Maester Luwin and Jon Connington. You will be leaving in a fortnight.” He paused and took another deep breath. “You have leave to go now.”

Harry nodded, and practically rushed out of the room- and hit something hard and solid.

“Careful, my Prince. I could not live with myself if you hurt yourself because of me.” 

Harry looked into the pair of gleaming golden eyes he loved so much, feeling a smile break out on his own face. “This is all your doing.” 

Zayn Martell smiled, crossing his arms behind his back. “I could not bear the thought of being separated from you again,” he admitted. “And my father... I fear he knows me too well.” 

Harry leaned closer to the Dornish prince. “In that case... I hear you’re interested in riding dragons.”

**Author's Note:**

> Valar morghulis, bitches.


End file.
